


Ever After

by chaoticprocrastinator (order_of_chaos)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/order_of_chaos/pseuds/chaoticprocrastinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Massages and mind-control.  He offers her a happy ending, and instead she takes ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Honourable mentions go to secondhandact, who did some of the writing, and to livvy and unf, also part of the inspirational hive-mind. You are all shiny. I like you.

The first time they do this, it’s a tentative thing, an awkward meeting between acquaintances who aren’t quite friends. She listens to him—Aranea always listens—and as thanks, Cronus offers her a massage. He thinks he’s being subtle when he works the tension from her shoulders, the small of her back, the insides of her thighs. It never occurs to him to think how transparent his wiles must be to a telepath. He offers her a happy ending, and she takes ever after.

\--

He resists, at first, struggling against her control with reflexive wariness, managing only a half-hearted defiance that does nothing to disguise his desperate desire. He’s practically royalty, he thinks— _she_ should be the one begging _him_. “Arrogant,” she tells him. “Stupid. It’s not even what you _want_.” Then she takes him, moves him to her will as casually as she might an extra pair of hands. Spreads his legs wide, makes him touch himself until he’d be writhing in desperation if only he could, makes him _stop_. Uses him to touch herself, his hands on her horns, her breasts, her nook. Her bulge, a slick curve of blue between his fingers. She makes him please her, and leaves him aching.

He is furious, frustrated. He hates this.

He doesn’t hate it. Aranea wants him, not as some pretty lie he’s dressed himself up in, hoping to impress someone, but as himself. Without choices, he can’t do anything wrong, can’t ruin this. It means everything.

The second time, he fights less. By the third, he’s stopped entirely. Aranea has found a way to make him feel whole, and all he can do is surrender.

She knows exactly what she’s doing to him, of course she does. She’s in his mind. She knows him, inside and out, and at this point, there’s no part of him she does not own. She doesn’t even need to gag him, if she wants him silent; just does it anyway because she likes how it looks on him. 

“Yes,” she says fondly, satisfaction clear, “you wear that well.” She touches her riding crop to his cheek, dangerously close to one fin, and smiles as the mingled terror and anticipation makes him shiver.

She lets him shiver, sometimes; gentling her control over him enough that he can move on his own, watching him scramble to obey.

As long as he submits, she’ll give him whatever he wants. 

He wants _everything_.

He’s no longer too proud to beg for it, and he’s sure that she finds the constant muffled whimpering of her name a pleasant backdrop to accompany the white noise of her pleasure. It’s always about her pleasure. Her pleasure and her control, and Cronus is taken, used, useful. He is hers, her willing slave, and in the end, that’s what he wants. He craves it, this drug that only Aranea Serket can provide him. He’s an addict, and he’s completely, unreservedly, lost for her.

She knows.


End file.
